Broken Inside
by asthiathien
Summary: Months of captivity are not something anyone can endure without being irrevocably changed. Tony Stark is no exception. One-shot, taking place after Rhodey retrieves him from the desert. Rated T for some language and psychological trauma.


Rhodey looks over worriedly at Tony, who sits calmly in his chair at the briefing table, hands resting on the table, staring off into the stillness. He's been cleaned up now, starting to look like himself again with his dark suit and ridiculous beard and hair.

But appearances are deceiving, because the most he's gotten out of Tony is monosyllables and the doctor who put his arm in the sling didn't get much more.

Maybe Rhodey should be worrying about the press, about what would happen when they got back home, but all he can really think about is how his normally impossible-to-shut-up friend hasn't said one word in almost an hour.

He reaches out to put his hand on Tony's shoulder and he jerks away, a strangled cry rising in his throat and before Rhodey can blink, Tony's halfway across the room and has assumed one of his martial arts stances that wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing against submachine guns.

But what really hits him is the look in Tony's eyes, his panic and utter terror and Rhodey knows Tony isn't seeing him when he looks at him, is seeing someone else entirely.

This isn't his first time dealing with traumatized former prisoners, but it never gets any damn easier seeing the looks in their eyes.

Rhodey holds up his hands where Tony can see them and makes sure to speak comfortingly and make absolutely no threatening moves. This situation is delicate and dangerous and if Rhodey makes one small misstep he'll bring the shards of Tony Stark crashing down to shatter into pieces that can never quite be put back together.

"Tony, you're okay. You're safe, you're at the base. It's Rhodey; I'm here. You'll be okay, it'll be okay. . ."

He has to repeat his recitation twice more before Tony blinks and comes back to himself, and then Tony's speaking again, in a fast and hurried recitation that surprises Rhodey even more given how quiet Tony's been this entire time.

"You want to take me back to the States? Great, sure then, let's do it. Go home, right, go to a couple parties and get your life back, nice and easy. But it's not that simple, is it? It's never been that damn simple, I just blinded myself with my brilliance, thinking how _amazing and wonderful_ it was to have a nickname like 'The Merchant of Death'. Pretending it was all _a damn game_ when people over here were _dying_ from _my weapons_, and I didn't think about how, well of course the terrorists want to get their hands on some of my weapons, _that's the way the world works!_ So they get their hands on some of my tech somehow, who knows how anymore_, who really cares,_ and then they shoot it off at us because that's _what they do_. And it wasn't just them, either!" he says, voice rising to a shout. "Oh no, it was us too, not caring about who we hit as long as the threat was neutralized, well, who cares who gets caught in the crossfire, right? It's a cruel world, you know? Toughen up!"

"Tony – " Rhodey tries, because he's not entirely sure what he was trying to get him to do, but whatever it was, it sure wasn't this – "Tony, I don't know what you're talking about - "

"_You know damn well what I'm talking about!" _Tony screams, the hysteria in his voice increasing with the volume, and he flings a hand towards the wall to gesture at every single town that's ever been hit by a Stark weapon. "The innocents out there who died because they just happened to have the business end of a Stark missile pointed at them, whether it was on accident or on purpose - hell, that kid, _that damn kid_ who just wanted a picture with Tony Stark when the convoy went up and _everything_ _went straight to hell_!"

"Tony - "

But Tony's not listening to him anymore, and Rhodey doesn't think he sees any of them, not really, as his billionaire friend throws his head back and laughs as his hands come up and grip at his dark hair as if he's trying to forcibly cling to whatever's left of his sanity. "Even the damn demonstration; we didn't clear that mountainside before we shot the stupid thing off! For all I know, there could've been any number of helpless people trying to eke out a living somewhere in those caves when they died just because the rich genius couldn't find the time to do one little scan before he shot off a missile that outshines everything short of a damn nuke!"

He spins back around so that he's facing Rhodey, and suddenly he's startlingly lucid again and he wouldn't be able to believe Tony had just been laughing to put the craziest megalomaniac to shame if he hadn't seen it himself.

"And then," Tony says, and he would sound calm if he'd didn't sound so empty inside, "and then, I ran out of the truck and had _my own damn missile_ land close enough for me to read the label! A-and then it-it exploded right in my face and the shrapnel went right through my bulletproof vest." His fingers fumble at the buttons of his dark shirt and then he pulls it apart, revealing still-red scars that it takes much longer than a month to heal. "'They call them the walking dead because it takes about a week for the shards to reach the vital organs,'" he quotes, his eyes fixed on a point far past them. Then his fingers go to the shining circle in the middle of his chest, right where his heart should be, that Rhodey's held himself back from asking about because he knows the answers would hurt Tony immensely.

"If Yinsen wasn't so much of a genius," Tony says quietly, still caressing the edges of the circle, "and if I wasn't who I am, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, I'd have died when the stupid battery shorted out when they shoved me under instead of managing to do what I do best." A harsh, bitter laugh. "Figure out new ways no one else has every thought of. Innovate. Break the laws of physics till it's not even an accomplishment anymore. I should have died. Not him. Not him, not anyone else, especially not that silly kid with the peace sign who would have desperately wanted to show the world his picture but wouldn't have told a soul because I said I didn't want to see it on his MySpace page because that's how I am._ They_ should have gotten the chance to live. Not me." He laughs again, and Rhodey's staring at him in shocked horror, because the Tony he knew would never be able to laugh like this, he'd think it was insane that he might ever be this broken. "Not the Merchant of Death."

His hand twists into a claw and grasps at the circle of light, and Rhodey finally reaches out and grabs his hand, holding it between both of his to keep him from clawing at what looks an awful lot like a really small arc reactor. "Tony, Tony, it's okay. You're safe now."

His best friend scoffs. "Yeah, I'm safe. Safe while everyone else I endangered is fighting for their lives." He straightens up and pulls his hand from Rhodey's, starting to button up his shirt. "Come on. We've got a plane to catch."

He turns away and walks towards the exit, his back perfectly straight as he reenters the blazing sun and Rhodey can't help but think that his best friend will never be coming back from the cave.


End file.
